


Stairway to Heaven

by micrissia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel kissing, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, F/M, M/M, WE deserved better, animals go to heaven as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micrissia/pseuds/micrissia
Summary: Why the heck did everything that happened in 15x20 actually happened? (say hi to dear Chuck)Who did little Sammy marry? (you know this one)How Jack managed Heaven on his own? (not alone, that's for sure)And - last but not least - what exactly happened during Dean's long ride through heaven? (you did not see that one coming)Join me to find the answers to all of the above!Oh, yes, almost forgot: the boys are gonna go hunting for some vicious fangirl's ghost in a tv network's building [*wink* *wink*]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Beautiful Loser

**Author's Note:**

> This little thing I've made is divided into 4 chapters, each focusing on different character. You may find the chapter's titles familiar, as they're named (and the whole work as well) after the songs I've listened to on the loop while writing. Consider them my soundtrack.
> 
> All of the below happens right after Sam and Dean met in Heaven, just before Jared and Jensen said their goodbyes.
> 
> It's my first time sharing a fanfic, so I'm a bit nervous here.  
> Hope you'll enjoy!

_“Hey, Sammy.”_

***

“And? What do you think?”

“Honestly?” Becky put down a pile of papers and looked at the man sitting across from her. “It sucked.”

“What?!” Chuck's face was full of disbelief. “Oh come on, it's not that bad!”

“No, yeah. It is.”

Chuck took the freshly finished manuscript away from her and quickly started running through the pages. Becky used that moment of quietness to take a look around.

They were sitting at a table in some bar. The place looked a lot quite oldschool. Walls were covered with brick, some black and white pictures of bands from the 60s and the 70s were hung on them. Round tables and wooden chairs looked as if they were waiting for guests to come and use them, but the place was completely empty. There were a couple of empty mugs left on the bar. The light was dim and the air smelled like cigarettes, with a faint trace of pee.

It was the same bar where Chuck worked on his autobiography with Metatron a few years ago, but Becky couldn’t know that.

When Chuck unexpectedly showed up at her door this morning, the woman definitely did not expect to end up in a place like this. After their last meeting, she rather expected to end up dead. Being kidnapped and forced to read his latest work wasn’t that bad after all.

“No, I like it,” Chuck stated after reviewing his writings.

“The fans are supposed to like it, not you”, she answered a bit angrily.

“They will.”

“No, they won't. I don't, and we both know I'm probably the only Supernatural fan that's still reading your novels.”

Chuck's face twisted with anger for a brief moment. His fingers twitched on the pages, but then he took a deep breath and asked in a seemingly peaceful voice “Well then, my only fan. What is it that you don't like?”

“Where do I start?”

“From the beginning, if you won't mind.”

Becky grabbed the pages from his hands and pointed at the first one. “A rusty nail?! Are you friggin' kidding me, Chuck?!”

“What's wrong with that!”

The woman closed her eyes, doing her best to keep calm. At least a little bit. For the time.

“That's… that's not the way a hunter dies. And here we're not even talking about some 'a hunter'. It's Dean Winchester, Chuck. He's one of the main heroes. How many times did he save the world? How much did he sacrifice for it? And this is the death you're giving him?! Accidentally getting pinned onto a rusty nail?! Out of all his deaths, this one is the worst. The stupidest. And remember, Gabriel made him get killed by a taco.”

“At least Sam is with him,” stated Chuck in defense.

“Point.” Becky nodded shortly. “That part was actually good. And Dean’s speech… it was great. I cried.”

“I know,” Chuck sniffed. “Sadly, I've seen it.”

“I mean,” Becky didn't seem to hear him, focused on the manuscript. “I get why you killed him. With Cas dead, he'd spent the rest of his life blaming himself and grieving. And, let's be honest, he could never live an apple pie life on his own. Without his angel, he wouldn't want to.”

“So you liked it?” Chuck's eyes brimmed with hope.

“The cause of his death should be more glorious. It's a hero's death, after all. Give the man some dignity."

“All right, I'm on it.” Chuck took his hand to take the pages, but Becky moved them out of his reach.

“That's it for the beginning," she said. "Now that we've got Dean's death covered, let's talk about Sam."

"Do we really have to?" asked Chuck very quietly. There was a trace of despair in his voice.

Becky didn't hear him - or decided not to - and continued her speech. "I love how you paralleled the day before Dean's death and the day after. Same scenes, their normal, every-day life, but such a huge difference. I mean, don't even get me started, that one, lonely toast? I imagine Dean every morning grabbed his when it was still too hot. But now, Sam makes just one piece. And there’s no-one to catch it." Becky's eyes were wet. She blinked a few times, trying to hold back tears. "Even thinking about it makes me wanna cry."

"Please don't," Chuck whispered softly. "Not again."

"I wouldn't change a thing there. But later on… Who did he marry?"

God shrugged. "Just some chick he met at work."

"Sam got a job?" Becky looked genuinely surprised. "Why wasn't it mentioned in the book? What's he doing?"

"Eh," Chuck casually waved his hand. "Not important."

Becky rolled her eyes, but didn't comment. "Where is Eileen though?" she asked instead.

"Who?"

"Eileen? The badass mute huntress Sam dated before you wiped her out?"

"Ah, yes, her. She died in a car accident a few years after Dean."

"Why, Chuck?" Becky shook her head, disappointment visible on her face. "They were happy together, why didn't you let them?"

Chuck shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."

"You're such an asshole, you know?"

"If that's all you've got to tell me…" Chuck gave her a meaningful look.

Becky faked a smile. "Moving on: heaven.”

God looked at her with despair, but Becky was determined to point out all her disappointments. She put a few pages to the side and turned the rest to him. “Bobby? Seriously?”

“What now? I thought you'd love to have him back.”

“Yeah, sure. But it's heaven, Chuck. In just a few lines Dean finds out Cas is there too, alive. Do you really think it's Bobby who should greet him up there?”

“Yes?” God's voice sounded weakly.

“No.” Becky shook her head. “It should be Castiel. After all, he’s in love with him. And we all know Dean loves Cas as well. Right?" She gave him a very meaningful look.

"Have you ever read him saying that?" Chuck’s face showed no emotions.

"Well, he should have. Rewrite that part too."

"Yeah, right." Chuck sent her a fake smile. " _Pero solo con la condición de que publique el libro en México,"_ he added.

"Oh, _deberás. Tienes muchos fans ahí._ "

They looked at each other heavily. There was fire raging in their eyes. Chuck was first to turn his gaze away. He didn’t expect Becky to understand and now felt a hint of shame.

“Speaking of Castiel, why is he not here anyway?” Becky shifted a few pages, as if she thought she missed some of them, and then looked up at Chuck. “He’s been around for, like, 11-12 years? And you didn’t even bother to let him make an appearance.”

Chuck frowned, but remained silent. He was not going to explain to her in detail why some things did and some didn’t happen. There was no point in telling her he was not as powerful as before and some things were currently out of his reach.

If Castiel himself didn’t want to show up, then there was nothing he, god, could do about that. And besides, he was still angry with that son of his.

“But, actually,” Becky looked at the pages again, as if suddenly realizing something. “Why are you even writing all of this?”

“To, uh, end the story?”

“Yeah, I mean… Didn't you say they're on their own now? And yet you wrote so much. In the previous chapter you made me read,” the look she gave him could easily kill. “You made Jack absorb your powers and they left you powerless.”

“Yeah, well, about that... I lied, you know.”

“So... you're still a godly god?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Then what about Jack?”

“He absorbed Amara's power.”

“He's the Darkness now?”

“In a way, yes. He is. It's too complicated to explain.”

“I still don't get this, Chuck. You told the Winchesters you're not going to write any more of their story.”

“I lied, Becky, okay? That's what writers do. That's what gods do!”

For a long while, Becky went silent. She was just sitting there, observing him with those dark eyes. There was a peculiar look on her face - a mixture of sympathy, confusion and disappointment. “I know now.”

At the time, Chuck had already started rewriting the middle pages. He looked up and their eyes met. “What could you possibly know, Becks?” he asked in a tired voice.

“You're a control freak. You hate it when things don't go the way you want them to.”

“That's because I am god.” Chuck answered haughtily _._

“No, it's you. Just you, the Chuck. Amara didn't have that need, did she? Besides, you couldn't control her, could you? You didn't write her story, she did all that herself.”

“So…?” He was getting annoyed.

“So, it did turn out for good, didn't it? The best ending she could have was the one she made herself. People will like that.”

“Okay, I don't get where this is going. I brought you here to give me some tips on the _grande finale_ , but right now I don't feel like that's what you're doing.” Chuck looked at the woman sitting across from him. His face was twisted with anger. “I thought having you here would be nice, but now I’m starting to think working with Metatron back then was more fun.”

“I am helping you, Chuck. Looking at you, I see my old self, you know? You got too involved. You have to let it go, Chuck. Instead of writing a fanfiction, just let the Winchesters make their own endings. Just sit back, grab some popcorn and watch the show.”

“I hate popcorn and you know it.”

***

"You did what…?" 

Chuck scratched his nose **,** looking uncomfortable. He turned his gaze at the Winchester brothers, frozen by his power behind his back. They were kneeling on the sand, all beaten up and covered in blood and dirt. He then looked back at his grandson. "I knew you wouldn't take it well," he said quietly. "Can't believe I really let Becky talk me into saying that."

"Who's Becky?" Jack blinked in confusion.

"Oh, just a no-one, don't bother," Chuck sent him a quick, fake smile. "So… About what I just said… What do you think?"

"No," Jack answered firmly, shaking his head. "I appreciate that you told me about this...little show, as you called it, that you were planning on doing here, but I can’t let you go just like that.”

“Oh, come on, Jack, we’re family!”

The boy shook his head again. “Someone once told me,” his eyes moved to the two frozen men behind Chuck. “Family doesn’t end in blood. And it doesn’t start there either.” Jack’s eyes glowed with yellow light when he looked back at his grandfather. “Family should care for you. And you don’t care for me, Chuck. You’re not my family. They are.”

“Jack…”

“You’ve done so many terrible things,” Jack interrupted him. “And you never planned on stopping. I won’t let you off.”

The Nephilim took a step closer. His eyes were shining brighter and brighter, as he sucked more and more of Chuck’s power. God fell to his knees, his face full of shock and despair. “Jack, please…”

“You will never hurt my family again.” In three long steps, Jack crossed the distance between them and grabbed Chuck’s head. His eyes flashed and his skin shone as he sucked all the power from him. In a blink of an eye, it was over. Jack let go and Chuck fell to the ground, now completely powerless. Behind him, Sam and Dean suddenly gasped as the force that kept them frozen was suddenly gone.

Jack snapped his fingers and in an instant they were back in shape, wounds and blood gone. He smiled at the brothers as they stared at him with strange looks on their faces.

“Is it...is it over?” asked Sam.

“Did you beat him?” Dean gave Chuck a disgusted look.

“Yes, I did.” Jack nodded. 

“What...what did you do?” asked Chuck in a weak voice. He was still laying on the ground, unable to even get up. He didn’t expect things to end up like this when he followed Becky’s suggestion to try to make peace with Jack. Up until that moment, everything was going according to what he had written previously, even though the manuscript was already gone. He was so certain he knew all of them and that they’d act the way he expected them to even without it being written down.

As it turned out, he didn’t know them at all. In the end, when he had finally given the Winchesters their free will, Sam, Dean and Jack really did what _they_ wanted to. And it was nothing Chuck expected them to do. He had gotten so used to having his children acting the way he planned, he had forgotten they had their own minds, their own wills.

This time he really, truly had no idea what will come next.

“Come on, guys! If this really is the end, then go on! Kill me! This will be the most glorious ending, won’t it? The Winchesters actually killing god! Oh, this one is even better than the one I wrote before!”

Chuck knew he was provoking them. He did that on purpose. In the ending he wrote previously, he tricked the Winchesters and kept some of his powers. Now he couldn’t and he really was ready to die. Otherwise, he’d have to live a regular, mortal life. And that’d be unacceptable.

But Dean didn’t even spare him a look. He patted Jack’s arm, giving him an approving nod, and said, “Let’s go home.”

Sam kicked the God’s Book away as he followed his brother.

“Are you really just letting me be?” There was despair in Chuck’s voice. “After everything I’ve done to you? You don’t want to punish me, to take your revenge?”

Dean stopped.

“To die at the hands of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer.” Chuck laughed hysterically. “That’d be something!”

“See, that’s where you are wrong, Chuck. A killer is not who I am,” Dean answered, still refusing to look at him. “I haven’t realized that for a long, long time. You _made_ me a one, Chuck. But you don’t call the shots now, not anymore. Now I can be whoever I want to be.”

"Besides," Sam looked at Chuck with a stern face. "Leaving you all by yourself? Making you live a regular, human life? That's the best punishment for you."

As the three of them slowly made their way towards the Impala waiting on the side, they could hear Chuck’s voice from where he still laid on the sand. “Guys! Guys! Wait! You can’t just leave me here! Guys!”

Sam looked at him over his shoulder. “Can’t? Who are you to tell us what we can or cannot do?”

And just like that, they left.

The Impala purred with pleasure. A plume of sand shot up from under her wheels. Before the last grain fell, she disappeared into the trees **.** None of her passengers looked at the once-almighty, hopelessly kneeling on the ground. They just got into the car and drove away.

There was no-one left to see him.

No-one to hear him.

No-one to help him.

The ex-god did looked pitiful. But there was no-one left to pity him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part in spanish was provided by Google Translate. If it's incorrect - really sorry for that!


	2. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while, but it's finally here! The Sam's chapter!  
> Well, at least its first half.  
> We're doing a little time-jump. Prepare yourself for some hunting trip with our boys and their gorgeous company.

It's been four weeks since they beat Chuck and Sam had already gotten used to this new life of his. A long run through the forest and a breakfast for three in the morning. Then some lazy reading in the library and a fight training with Eileen in the afternoon. She moved into the bunker and gave it a much needed female touch. And tuned out to be great at dealing with drunk Dean.

With what seemed like a total disappearance of monsters, there was not much for them to do anyway. Sam kept in touch with other hunters, but - as of now - none of them met anything supernatural. No weird deaths or strange omens, no impossible accidents or unusual disappearances. 

Just a regular world with its regular shit going on.

Days passed idly. It took some time, but eventually he and Eileen moved on and started talking about the new kind of future ahead, while his brother...didn’t.

To say that Dean was falling short would be an understatement of the year. Starting from the first day, when only the two of them returned to the bunker and he had drunk until unconscious, he had not sobered up for a moment. Sam was convinced his brother had long since drained all the alcohol to the last drop.

The first few days Dean spent locked in Castiel’s old room. Sometimes Sam could hear his sobbing from behind the closed door. At that time, he’d stay, listening. He never knocked, knowing his brother wouldn’t want to be seen in that state. He never prayed, knowing no-one could help. He could only stand there, silently listening, heart aching for his brother, until Dean passed out, completely drunk.

For the first time in his life, Sam had no idea what to do. How to help.

After all, there was no coming back from the Empty. Not twice.

Although Dean never shared the details of Castiel’s death with him, Sam pretty much figured it out. His brother was obviously heartbroken and devastated - much more than Sam has ever seen him.

The second phase of Dean’s grief was destructive. It started at 3 a.m., when Sam suddenly woke up to some huge noise. He jumped out of his bed and ran down the corridor dressed only in boxers. His sudden moves woke Eileen and they both ran into Cas’ room with guns in their hands, only to find the elder Winchester murdering the bed with an axe. A table and a chair already smashed into pieces. Dean stopped and gave his brother a long look. Their eyes met and what he saw in his blood-shooted ones made Sam slowly withdraw. He never went back to sleep, listening to the sounds of total destruction that lasted for another few hours.

The third phase, which came in the evening of that same day, soon turned out to be the worst one in Sam’s humble opinion. After some time, he realized he preferred it when Dean was smashing stuff in drunken fury. It was much better than his dead silence or the heart-wrenching sobbing in the first days.

And definitely better than the quiet words that could now be heard in the bunker's silence, whispered almost unconsciously to the one that could no longer hear them. It was the worst, because Sam knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear them, and that they’d forever remain without any response.

Then, after about three weeks of constant drinking, one day Dean just stopped. He never told his younger brother about a dream he had at that time. One filled with the flutter of a trench coat in the wind and the rustle of wings, with beige and baby-blue.

Sam asked, but only once. Dean’s expression told him he should never do that again.

*

Since then, a week has passed. There was still no sign of any job, hence there was no need for hunters. After some serious discussions and a few heated arguments, Sam and Dean finally decided on starting over. On doing things they never had a chance to do.

It was their last day in the bunker. Sam and Eileen were moving to a little white house with a porch and a big backyard, located just outside of Lebanon. He had gotten a job as a programmer and she found a vacancy in a flower shop.

Dean, on the other hand, had no plans for the future. First, he wanted to go on a road trip for a while and then figure everything out. At least that was what he had told his younger brother.

A phone was ringing crazily, as if it wanted to wake up the dead. The three of them had basically all their stuff already packed up in boxes, so it took them a while to find the noise-maker.

“It’s...Jody,” Sam fished the cell from among a pile of Dean’s clothes, randomly thrown on the floor. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked as he put her on speaker.

“Sam,” her voice sounded a bit worried. “Have you heard from Claire?”

“Claire?” he repeated, surprised. He took a quick look at Dean, but his brother shook his head with a stern face. “No, we haven’t. Why? What happened?”

“Well, the girls...” Jody fell silent for a moment. “Yesterday Patience told me she found something worth checking and the four of them decided to go. Normally I’d join them, but the last few days have been crazy here. It's just that I've got a bad feeling, Sam. It’s been quiet for too long, if something happens to them…”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, full of concern. Sam then turned to Eileen. She nodded and put down a box she was going to take to the car. 

“Alright, we’ve got this. Don’t worry, Jodi. We’ll find them.”

“Thank you, Sam. I'll send you the location”

“It’s nothing. I’ll let you know when we find out anything.”

“Well, there goes our happily ever after,” muttered Dean, but none of the two heard him.

Sam sat at the table and opened his laptop to do some research after receiving Jodi’s text. Eileen apparently already decided on the outcome, as she started unpacking some of the boxes. By the time her boyfriend had finished, she had the table sugged under the weight of a variety of guns, a few sacks of salt and a mix of other types of weapons that could come in handy.

“Like a supernatural scout girl”, Dean whispered with a smirk on his face.

“I think I’ve got a hit,” Sam stated, looking up from where he was sitting. Only now did he realize Eileen and Dean were already ready to go. He blinked, surprised.

“Can we go now?” asked his brother.

Sam filled them in as they moved the weapons to the trunk of the Impala. He found some news about a series of mysterious deaths in San Francisco that could catch the young huntresses’ attention. 

“Maybe we should contact some local hunters first?” asked Eileen.

“Well, for starters, we don’t know any.” Dean was ready to go, leaning against the car's door. “Second, this is a kinda family thing. Those are our kids.”

Eileen didn’t expect to hear something like that.

“That’s not what he meant,” Sam explained, noticing confusion on her face. “Claire and Kaia, Patience, Alex... You could say they became hunters because of us.” He opened the back door for Eileen and got into the Impala after her. “Dean feels especially protective over them. Or any other kid we’ve encountered, but don’t tell him that,” he added, making sure his brother couldn’t hear him.

Eileen puffed a laugh.

“What are you two doing back there?” Dean’s head instantly popped inside. “Try keeping your hands away, okay?”

Sam sent his brother a murderous look, but Dean only bared his teeth in a wild smile.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” asked Sam.

Dean mentioned he had something to talk to him about before he fell asleep over eight hours ago. Now it was Dean’s turn to sit behind the wheel for the last couple of miles and they finally had the time to talk, while Eileen was sleeping in the back. She drove for the last six hours and was now getting a rest she deserved.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean kept his eyes on the road, doing everything he could to avoid his brother’s gaze. “You asked me what do I want to do now that we’re not hunters anymore, remember?”

“Sure. And?”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Dean unconsciously run his fingers through his hair. “Before he died, Bobby, our old Bobby, left me his place and I…”

“He did what?!” Sam interrupted him. “Why would he do that? Why haven’t you told me?”

“See, that is why,” Dean pointed at his brother’s face. “I knew you’d react like that!”

“What do you mean? I’m just surprised.’”

“Well, maybe he liked me better,” Dean stated. “I’m sure as hell he did.”

“So, now you want to do what, move there?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet. The place is ruined anyway.” Dean went silent for a while. “But I’ve talked to the new Bobby. He’s interested too.”

“Oh, so now you two are best friends or something?”

“Well, you’ve got yourself a girl. Do you expect me to live with you?”

From the backseat, Eileen suddenly made a noise. Her disheveled head showed up between the front seats.

“No, of course not, but…” before Sam could finish, she tugged on his shoulder.

She pointed at something on the side of the road. It was a sign to a hostel under a fancy name ‘House of Fame’. “Let’s stop there,” she said, interrupting their argument.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting around a table in a decent-looking, simple-furnished room. Sam was clicking on his laptop, busy with trying to locate Claire’s phone. In the meantime, Dean and Eileen were once again researching the case, digging into online articles and police records.

Everything started a week ago, when one of a tv network’s employees died of a heart attack during a meeting at the headquarters. According to one of the witnesses, the woman was extremely pissed with some script they were discussing. After that, ‘weird things started to happen,’ said the article. Strange noises, moving furniture, lights blinking. Three days later, one of the company’s screenwriters slipped on the parking lot and hit a wall with a rod sticking out of it. He died in a hospital. Police department called it an accident and dropped the case.

The next day, an assistant to one of the directors choked to death eating sausages during a break at work. The police once again got nothing.

“I’ve got something,” Sam looked away from the screen and turned to face the window. “The girls, they’re...here.”

Four young women just got out of a beautiful, red ‘69 Mustang. Dean whistled, sparks shining in his eyes. He got up from his chair and hurried outside. “Hey, kids,” he greeted the girls quickly, already circling the car.

“Morning, Dean,” Claire answered with a sour face.

“Hi!” Sam hugged every single one of them and then introduced Eileen. “How did you find us?”

“Call it luck,” Alex followed Claire, who already walked into the room. “Or fate. We’re staying next door.”

“You were tracking me,” stated Claire reproachfully, taking a look at Sam’s laptop.

“Did Jody send you here?” Kaia sat on Dean’s chair and picked up a pile of printed pages with articles from the web. 

"Yeah, she did," Sam closed the laptop right in front of Claire's nose.

The girl frowned and rolled her eyes, but obediently sat on one of the beds next to Patience. "She shouldn't have," she stated. "We can handle everything."

"Really? What do you have so far?"

"A nice ride, that's for sure," Dean walked in, his eyes still sparkling with excitement.

Alex grimaced and, ignoring him, replied to Sam **, “** We’ve investigated the victims. First was Cynthia Warner, a 37 years old screenwriter. No family, except for an older sister who she hasn't talked to for years. There was nothing interesting in her flat, only dozens of books and some merch related to the movies she worked on. And before you ask, she was already cremated”

Eileen looked at the printed articles scattered on the table and took one from the pile, showing it to Sam.

“Cynthia Warren,” his eyes ran through the text. “Died of a heart attack? At this age? A bit too young, don’t you think?”

“We did, at first,” replied Kaia. “But I got to her medical records. She was diagnosed with some heart defect as a kid.”

“Still…” Sam took another look at the article. “That’s a bit weird.”

“What about the others?” asked Dean, still leaning next to the front door.

“The second victim was also a screenwriter,” replied Patience. “Dustin Arleston, 51. A wife, two kids, big house with a garden. The neighbors said he was a nice guy, although very conservative. Homophobic and a bit racist. Also cremated.”

“He was the one who got nailed to the wall, right?” made sure Dean.

Patience nodded.

“That’s a weird way to just accidentally die, don’t you think?” he looked at Sam.

“Agreed. What about the last one?”

“We just got back from the morgue,” Claire waved her hand in the direction of their car. “The girl’s name was Janice Parson, she was 25 and was working as an assistant. During lunch break she choked to death on a sausage.”

Dean puffed a laugh that earned him murderous glances from all of them.

“We didn’t have a chance to check her place, but,” she exchanged looks with Kaia. “That probably won’t be necessary.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You've got something,” he stated.

“We were able to determine the three of them have been working on the same project,” explained Alex.

“But we don’t know what it was. The network is keeping it a secret from the public,” Claire’s lips twisted with annoyance **.** “We went there earlier today, but couldn't get in."

"Only employees are allowed to," Kaia added.

"We should definitely start with checking out the place," said Eileen and then looked at Sam.

“I have an idea on how to get in,” came the answer.

“Please, don’t tell me we’re gonna pretend to be actors _again_ ,” muttered Dean under his breath.

*

Dean followed Claire and Alex as they walked into the tv network building.

“Smile,” muttered the blonde.

Winchester gave her a grotesque smile. “Why am I here?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Because,” Alex gave him a stern look. “You’re the only one fitting for the role.”

At that moment they arrived at the front desk, where a young man in striped shirt greeted them. “We’re here for the audition,” Claire pointed at Alex and herself, sending him a smile so fakely cheerful she could feel her face hurt. 

The man nodded, clicked something on his iPad and turned his gaze to Dean, who was standing stiffly behind the girls. “And you, sir?” he asked with suspicion in his voice.

“I’m…” Dean sighed. “I’m their father,” he blurted out quickly.

“We’re underage,” Alex explained, smiling.

The man didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly and handed Dean some papers. “Please sign here, sir.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean took a quick glance at the documents and started filling the designated blanks with some random data, discreetly looking around. He noticed a security guard standing in the corner and cameras on the ceiling.

The receptionist explained to the girls where they should go. As the two were walking away, Claire glanced at Dean over her shoulder. Their eyes met and the Winchester winked at her with a reassuring smile on his lips. Claire nodded right before she disappeared behind the corner.

Dean turned to the receptionist. “So, when should I come pick my little princesses up?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it up to this point, thank you so much!  
> Feel welcome to leave a comment :)


End file.
